


Entre Les Overdoses d'Amour

by assassinslover



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinslover/pseuds/assassinslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost worse, knowing that there's so much fear, so much pain, so much uncertainty that it can't be properly expressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend for not murdering horribly for using the title of one of her Naomily fics for this. Ta, babes. No one read over this, so any mistakes in spelling/grammar/French are entirely mine.

_Ton rire résonne et puis s’enfuit_  
 _Je crois qu’il est trop tard_  
 _Pour te dire que ça fait mal_

“ _La Petite Mort” - Coeur de Pirate_

 

“I'm sick, Delphine.” The words hit her like a truck, crushing her chest and lungs and ribs, breaking her bones. For a very long moment, as Cosima turns to her, on the verge of tears, she can't breathe. She wants to kiss her, right then in that moment, more than she's ever wanted anything in her entire life, but she can't, not after what she did. She feels like the devil for having lied and kept secrets, for spying and snooping and hurting the person she cared for most in the world in the process, for not trying harder to make Cosima believe that she really was on her side, that all she wanted, all she had ever wanted, to do was to protect her. The look of fear in Cosima's eyes stopped her heart, trampled across her body like a herd of elephants. She reaches out, offering comfort in the only way she can think of doing, hoping that it will be accepted, hoping that it will be enough.

 

It won't, she knows that. Not now.

 

She doesn't care when her cheek knocks against the corner of Cosima's glasses, though she sees the brunette's flinch out of the corner of her eye. She feels guilty over how good it feels to be so close to her again. The brunette had practically ended up in her lap while they were working on the code, but it wasn't the same as feeling her, warm and alive, wrapped up in her arms. She holds on as tight as she possibly can, as tight as she dares, not wanting to squeeze too hard, lest depriving Cosima's lungs of air for any amount of time causes a fit of coughing and she doesn't know if she can stand to see. Cosima clings to her, hands tugging, fingers digging into her flesh, trying to pull her closer, and she wants to be closer but she can't. There's hardly any space between them, but it feels like miles.

 

It was miles, not that long ago, and she never, ever wants that again.

 

Cosima's body shudders. Delphine tightens her grip, just marginally. Just enough. She strokes her fingers across Cosima's shoulder and along the back of her neck, pushing her face into the curve of her body and breathing in her scent. There's no hint of the perfume she'd worn that first night, that first... date, just the faint remnant of her soap. Just her. She feels the flesh of her neck grow damp, and her heart breaks. Cosima shuffles closer, holds her tighter, and digs her nails in so hard that it hurts, but she represses the wince that threatens to shake her body, not wanting Cosima to let go. She moves her hand up from where it had come to rest against the brunette's back and rubs the nape of her neck, hushing her softly, lips moving against Cosima's skin.

There's no wrenching sob this time, not like when Cosima had confronted her about everything, the last time she had seen her, the last thing she had heard, just before she had shut the door. It's almost worse, knowing that there's so much fear, so much pain, so much uncertainty that it can't be properly expressed, or maybe it's that Cosima is holding back, because Delphine kept those things from her, and despite what they had achieved that evening, there was still hesitance, still a stiffness to her body that hadn't been there before. She tries to coax her into relaxing, constantly muttering against her skin, but she knows her words won't mean anything. She needs to speak with actions, and she will. She swears it to herself, on what she thought she would never feel for the brunette.

 

All she can do, all she's allowed to do, is hold her, and it kills her.

 

Delphine's body hurts from staying so long in one position, but she can't bear to let go of Cosima, who's finally stopped crying, her tears soaked into the straps of Delphine's top and bra, and the hem of her shirt. She's still awake, Delphine can tell by her uneven breathing, but she hasn't said a word, not since those horrible three that turned her entire world upside down. Three simple, terrible words. Against her, Cosima stirs, minutely, shifting her form, but still holding on. Sweat and tears stick their flesh together. She shifts her hand, running it down Cosima's back, fingers pulling at her shirt. She lifts her head, brushing her lips and nose across Cosima's neck and sighs.

“Que vais-je faire de toi, ma chérie?” she whispers, her breath ghosting over Cosima's skin. Her throat and mouth are dry, her voice cracks, even as soft as it is.

“Stop talking French,” Cosima says, voice muffled and not at all sounding like she normally does. Delphine doesn't want to attribute an emotion to it. “I can't understand it.”

“I'm sorry,” Delphine says. Cosima ignores it, like she did before, and starts to pull away. Delphine wants to hang on, wants to tighten her grip and keep Cosima safe in her arms forever, but she doesn't. She lets her arms fall, sits back, and watches as Cosima carefully stretches all the knots out of her back and shoulders. She winces when she stands, hands on her hips, then leaves for the bathroom without a word. Delphine listens to the tap run. She pauses outside the bathroom after she emerges, gazing steadily at Delphine, still sat on the sofa. Her eyes are softer than they were before, but the way she's carrying herself is different, like a huge weight as been laid on her shoulders. Delphine supposes it has been.

“Are you hungry?” Cosima finally asks, moving from her spot, past Delphine and into the kitchen. “I don't think there's much, though.” Cabinets open and close, boxes and cans shift. “How's pot ramen sound?”

“I've never had it,” Delphine admits, twisting her body around to watch Cosima move.

“It's pretty good,” the brunette replies, without so much as a glance back. “College kid staple.”

“Whatever you would like,” Delphine says. Cosima pauses, holding a cup in one hand, as if weighing Delphine's words, considering how much they're worth, before putting water on the stove to boil.

 

They sit in silence on the couch, only a few inches, a few too many, between them. There's empty styrofoam cups on the table before them. Delphine's been listening as Cosima's breath starts to rattle slightly in her chest, like something is bubbling up inside her lungs. She knows that there is, and she knows that Cosima is holding back, trying to keep it down. She knows that each time a cough shakes her frame, no matter how small and innocent it may be, it's the start of something bigger, and she doesn't want Delphine to see just how scared she is, but Delphine knows that, too. With extreme hesitance, she lifts a hand, and lays it gently on Cosima's knee. When the brunette doesn't pull away, she squeezes, once, then strokes the side of it gently with her thumb. There's a tightness behind her eyes that matches the one in her chest. Cosima huffs out a faint cough, her face scrunched in discomfort. Another follows it, and then another. Delphine tightens her fingers around Cosima's knee again.

“Don't fight it,” she says quietly. “It will only make it worse.” Delphine doesn't know what exactly she had been expecting, but it certainly isn't the loud, thick, hacking cough that erupts from Cosima's throat, followed by another, and another. She holds a hand over her mouth, the other half gripping Delphine's thigh. Immediately, she lifts her hand from the brunette's knee, ghosting it up her arm and over her shoulder to massage the back of her neck. She can feel the concern plastered on her face. Cosima's fingertips dig into her leg.

It's not until the fit has subsided, and Cosima slumps back into the sofa, looking pale and drained and exhausted, and Delphine sees the red that stains her lips and palm, that the fear really sets in. It strikes suddenly, a cobra, runs through her entire body, filling up her veins like a vicious, deadly poison, painful and precise, designed to kill. With great effort, she keeps her breathing calm, though her heart is primed to burst from her chest. A final check that Cosima is, at least for the moment, okay, and she removes herself from the sofa to grab a paper hand towel from the messy kitchen, seating herself back by Cosima's side as soon as she can. She looks at Cosima's face before making any moves, checking her reactions, but the brunette just stares at her, eyes deep and dark and almost unreadable. Gently, so very gently, she reaches out, touching Cosima's wrist with her fingertips, experimenting with how much she's allowed, then carefully wraps her hand around and softly wipes the blood from where it's pooled in the creases of Cosima's palm, and the joints of her fingers.

She has to breathe before she lets go, long and low, controlled, her hand burning from touching. Cosima's eyes slide shut when Delphine cautiously lifts the towel to her face, a small line appearing between her eyebrows. She has to press harder than she likes to clean Cosima's lips, the blood having already begun to dry and cake.

“There,” Delphine says when she's finished, forcing a small smile, like the removal of Cosima's blood has solved the problem. The brunette slides down the sofa, crossing her arm over her stomach and rubbing at her temples with her hand. She sighs. Delphine discards the paper towel, stuffing it into one of the cups on the table, and places her hand on Cosima's leg again. Cosima shifts, shuffles closer, touching Delphine's knees where she's pulled them up, and let her body fall, head colliding softly with Delphine's collarbone.

 

The door sliding open makes them both jump. Cosima is half asleep, still resting on her shoulder. Delphine's going to have a thousand cricks in her body after the night's over, but it's more than worth it to make sure Cosima continues to know that she's there for her, no matter what. Delphine looks before Cosima does. She associates a name with the face, remembering Cosima's files and charts. She squeezes her fingers, getting Cosima's attention. The brunette looks up, takes one glance at Sarah standing in the doorway, and splits away from Delphine's body, her expression laced with fear and concern.

“Sarah?” she asks, making to stand. “Sarah, what's happened?” Delphine lets her hand slide from Cosima's back, wrapping her arms around herself, watching Cosima cross the room to her sister. They embrace, and Sarah's pain radiates through the entire room. Delphine feels it, even though she knows nothing about the clone, except for the fact that she most definitely does not like her. Sarah doesn't make any noise when she cries, but Delphine knows that she is. She can tell by the shaking of her shoulders, how she clings to Cosima like Cosima was just clinging to her. Cosima glances behind her, meeting Delphine's gaze with a worried look, her brows turned up and her lips pouting.

Cosima repeats the question, strokes Sarah's hair, rubs her back. Delphine, feeling like an intruder, turns away, busying herself with fixing the mess of papers her and Cosima had strewn about the table into an organized pile. She hears Sarah's voice, but it's too soft for her to make out the rushed out words. Cosima's response is more audible, though, and Delphine whips her head back around so fast that she almost gives herself whiplash. Sarah is glaring at her, still sheltered in Cosima's arms, her chin in the dip of her clone's shoulder. Her eyes are red and raw, her face splotchy, bruised, cut, bleeding.

“Do you know where they've gone?” she asks, venom and contempt lacing her tone. Delphine resents the tone, but she knows the reasoning behind it, and knows the only thing keeping Sarah back is Cosima's firm hold. She knows what Sarah said to Cosima without having to ask. Delphine quickly shakes her head in answer.

“I don't know. I am so sorry.” She can see the tension building in Sarah's body. She knows she'll lash out sooner or later, and it won't be at Cosima. “I should go,” she says, and begins to gather her things, swiftly, her hands shaking.

“Where?” comes Cosima's voice, raspy and light.

“I have a hotel,” Delphine replies distractedly, shoving her computer into her bag. A hand on her arm stills her movements, the touch familiar, the contact a surprise. Cosima stares down at her, frowning, questioning. “I think it's better if I leave,” she says, her voice soft, apologetic.

“You can't just leave Sarah and I here alone,” Cosima argues. She's still frowning, that little line back between her brows. “We can't reach Alison, Kira and Mrs. S are gone and we don't know where Felix is either. You have to stay.”

“She's right,” Sarah chimes in. Delphine leans back to look around Cosima at the other woman, who's standing awkwardly by the door, now closed, with her arms crossed over her torso, hands hidden under them. “There's no point in you leaving. We could probably use your help, anyway.” Cosima gives her a look, one that Delphine knows she wouldn't be able to resist, and even though she knows that Cosima's purposefully staring at her like that, she can't refuse. She sets her bag back down, inhales deeply, and nods.

 

Sarah finds out that evening. The hacking coming from the bathroom wakes Delphine up in the middle of the night, stirs her from her place on the sofa. Sarah, nursing a bottle a bottle of wine, half-gone, jerks her head up, looking confused, and drunk, and follows Delphine. She lingers though, unsure. Delphine can feel her staring as she rubs Cosima's back until the coughing subsides. When she glances back, through the hanging beads, she catches Sarah's puzzled, worried look. Cosima looks embarrassed when she turns around, briefly resting her forehead against Delphine's shoulder.

“You all right, Cos?” Sarah asks. She takes a step closer, hesitant, almost not wanting to intrude. Delphine moves to the side, gently pushing on Cosima's shoulder to guide her towards her look-a-like. For the second time, Delphine watches them cling to each other. Cosima whispers in Sarah's ear, then clutches tight. Sarah looks at Delphine over Cosima's shoulder for the second time that night, brows furrowed in concern the same way that Cosima's do.

“I'm going to find a cure,” Delphine says. Her mind's been made up since those three dreadful words. She would rather die than give up, than live the rest of her life having let Cosima slip away from her.

“Are you?” Sarah asks, and it's full of doubt and hesitation, mistrust.

“Yes,” she replies. Firmly, resolutely.

 

Cosima finds her on the sofa in the dark. The alcohol had gotten the best of Sarah not long after her sister's last fit, and she'd tangled herself up in the bedsheets, Cosima next to her. Delphine can't sleep, as much as she tries to, as tired as she is. Her head is too loud, whirring too fast. She useless without a lab to experiment in, without a library to research in, and she didn't have any of those things now. She wouldn't leave Cosima's side to go back to Minnesota. The only other choice there was as Leekie, and that couldn't really be defined as a choice, not after everything he had done, to her, to the clones. She hears the rustling, but disregards it as nothing more than one of the women shifting in their sleep, but then she hears Cosima's familiar voice drifting through the air, whispering her name. Delphine opens her eyes, waits for her vision to adjust to the darkness, reaching out.

“Cosima?” she says softly. Her hand hits something soft and warm. She spreads her fingers, recognizing the plane of Cosima's stomach, the jut of her hips. The brunette's hand covers hers, slowly flips it over and uses it to guide her body towards the sofa. Delphine shifts sideways, pressing the side of her hip against the back of the sofa, her hand hovering above the brunette's back until she's settled next to her. Their hands stay clasped. Cosima pulls it over, resting it in her lap, and strokes her knuckles, pushing and pulling at her skin with her thumbs. She's silent for a long while. Delphine's vision adjusts enough to differentiate her outline from the rest of the indistinct blackness of the flat. It would be easy to mistake her for Sarah, without her glasses on, without the dreadlocks. The darkness shifts as Cosima lifts her hand up and rubs at her eyes. She leans back, body touching Delphine's legs. She feels a knot in her chest, in her stomach. With her fingertips she kneads the brunette's back through her shirt, waiting.

“I can't sleep,” Cosima says. She sighs. Delphine feels her body move, holds her breath as she stretches out along the sofa. There's hardly any room for the both of them, but she tries to help, rotating herself onto her side. Cosima imitates, pressing fully against her front, pillowing her head on her arm, dragging Delphine's over her side and holding it there. She buries her nose at the nape of Cosima's neck.

“How bad is it?” she asks, a stupid question. Cosima will die if she doesn't find a solution.

 

She _will_ find a solution.

 

“Every few hours,” Cosima tells her. Her voice sounds small, weak. “It feels weird, though, like, all the time.” A pause, a sigh. “So I can't sleep.” Her heart forms a lump in her throat, pounding loudly and swiftly in her ears. A nervous churning starts in her stomach. Her hand rests against Cosima's stomach, fingertips wedging under her side. Cosima presses more firmly into her in response. She hears her sniff, just once.

“I will fix this,” she whispers along Cosima's skin. There's hesitation, but then a nod, and fingers folding over her hand. She brushes her nose up the nape of Cosima's neck, affectionate, comforting, gauging how far she's allowed to go, how much she's allowed to give.

“I just need you to hold me tonight, okay?” Her voice sounds broken, defeated, like admitting to all of this, the sickness, what she needs, is weakness. She hates it. It makes her angry, frustrated. She should already be working on a cure, she should be finding a place to do research without being disturbed. She won't sleep or eat if that's what it takes to fix this faster, to help her, to save her, to prove she can be trusted, to prove that what she feels is true.

“Tes désirs sont des ordres.” Cosima's voice echoes in her head, the same words, a different language. A smile, an endearing gaze. She'd felt too guilty after to enjoy the ice cream that Cosima had bought, that they had eaten in bed, trying to keep the last bits of it from dropping onto the sheets, while Cosima showed her an episode of her favourite TV show, and held her hand, and licked chocolate off the corner of her mouth.

“Stop talking French,” Cosima mutters, thankfully sounding sleepy. Delphine says awake until she hears Cosima's breathing even, feels the steady rise and fall of her chest, moving her arm with it, until the grip on her fingers loosens, but doesn't drop.

 

When she does sleep, it's fitfully, and can hardly be called sleep at all. She dreams of red.

 

Cosima turned into her at some point, after Delphine had finally drifted off, snuggled tight against her body with their legs tangled and her arm curled around Delphine's waist, fingers twisted into her top, head nestled underneath hers, against her chest. Her breath is rattling again, the first thing she notices when she wakes up, blinking her eyes open, feeling more exhausted than she had before. The second thing is that, through sleep-blurred vision, she can make out Sarah sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, watching her sister. She can smell the coffee Sarah's holding, mug cradled between her hands. She doesn't look much better either. There are dark circles under her eyes, and the bruises look worse. She must notice Delphine looking, because her eyes shift, slowly moving from Cosima up, meeting hers. The silence is tense, but she doesn't look away, doesn't allow herself to lose. Sarah's lips twitch, tightening, then she sighs and takes a drink.

“Do you want some?” She nods, relaxes her body against Cosima while Sarah puts down her cup and gets to her feet with a wince, visibly sore. She doesn't speak again until she's handed Delphine a mug, which she's careful to not spill, balancing it on the arm of the sofa while she wiggles herself into a position better suited to drinking without waking up the woman with a vice grip on her waist. “I heard her get up,” Sarah continues, holding her mug again. Delphine supports herself with an elbow on the couch arm, her free hand resting against the back of Cosima's neck, who nuzzles into her stomach, but otherwise doesn't move. “After the... She was coughing a bit, but, I guess she settled down.”

“I _will_ cure her, Sarah,” Delphine says. Her fingers tighten around the ceramic of her mug, the heat from it burning the skin of her palm. “And we _will_ find Kira, I swear it. I'll do whatever I can.” Sarah considers her, nods, and closes her eyes, sinking into the chair. The number of similarities between her and Cosima are almost startling, she thinks, watching. She sips at her coffee, rubbing Cosima's neck. It's a bit burnt, but welcome, and after what Sarah's been though she's surprised she's having coffee at all, and didn't just open another of the copious bottles of wine that seem to be placed everywhere in the flat. Cosima stirs, pulls away from her with a groan and swings her leg to the floor so she can sit up, leaning back against Delphine.

“Hey, Cos,” Sarah says. “All right?” Cosima breathes in, and Delphine can hear the gurgle in her chest. She swallows and clears her throat, hand splayed across her sternum, and nods.

“Feels like I have a chest cold,” she replies. “Only worse.”

“At least you can joke about it, that's a good sign.” Delphine doesn't think any of it is in the least bit amusing, but American humour is so much different from what she knows.

“Is there any food here? I'm starving.” She knows Cosima is trying to act like nothing is wrong. The brunette stands, and she sits up herself. There's no room for physical contact in the morning light, as much as she wants to offer it. She has a job to do, besides, and there's no point trying to tangle themselves back up if she's going to have to leave her behind to achieve it. “What the hell do you two eat?”

“Wine and crisps,” Sarah responds, standing and joining her clone. “Wanna go out?”

“Yeah, screw it.” Sarah says her name. Delphine looks over, questioning. Sarah's already got her jacket on, fixing the collar and pulling her hair out from under it.

“You comin' or what?” she asks, fingers yanking the zipper up. The question is an almost surprise.

“Yes,” Delphine replies. Then repeats herself. Cosima hands her her coat, rewarding her with a smile.

“I'm feeling super fatty horrible diner food,” she says. Her fingers linger, brushing ever so slightly against Delphine's knuckles before letting go of the jacket.

“I second that,” comes Sarah's reply from the door. It slides open loudly with a metallic rattle. “Let's get a move on, then.”

 

Cosima wolfs down food like it's her last night on earth, and it's mildly frightening. Sarah doesn't seem to pay much mind to it, but then again, she's eaten about the same amount, and about as fast. Delphine hopes it genetic, and the both of them aren't trying to compensate for a lack of energy. For her part, she's hardly touched her meal, although it's refreshing to have a cup of hot coffee that hasn't been burned. Cosima asks her how she can drink it black, and it's almost like the previous nights and the ones before didn't happen. She tries, though, but doesn't have a real answer, so just shrugs and says she likes it bitter.

“Same,” Sarah replies, soaking up bits of egg with her toast.

“You two are weird,” Cosima replies, shaking her head. “There's this place by my house, _not_ Starbucks,” she says, with a glare at Sarah, who presses her lips together and raises her hands in placation, “that does the _best_ iced latte.”

“Maybe when all this shit's over, Cos.”

 

Cosima leaves to use the bathroom. Delphine resists the urge to follow. There's no need to coddle her, but she worries, especially when minutes have passed and she still hasn't returned. Sarah looks at her with concern, the same line that Cosima gets forming between her brows. Delphine bites her lip, frowning, worry building.

“Are you gonna go check, or what?” Sarah asks, her tone short.

“I thought.. maybe you...” She stops before she can make a complete fool of herself and stands so quickly that she bumps her hip against the table. Sarah directs a glare at her, catching her glass of juice before it topples over. She shuffles past the waitress, muttering an apology under her breath for being in the way, and pushes into the toilet. She can't see Cosima, but she hears loud breathing from the stall at the end. Softly, she calls Cosima's name. The response she receives is loud enough to hear, but sounds weak, choked. Afraid, she stops at the end of the room and tries the door. The lock jiggles as its moved, but the door doesn't budge.

“One sec,” Cosima says. The room makes her voice echo the slightest amount. The lock clinks softly again. Delphine hesitates a second, then tries the door with her fingertips. It opens with a squeak, and she slips inside. Cosima looks up at her through watery eyes, her glasses held loosely in one hand. Her face is pale, lips flecked with red. “Hey,” she says softly. Delphine feels her chest constrict. She locks the door behind her and crouches down, taking Cosima's free hand. Cosima's dark eyes meet hers, pained and afraid. She strokes her cheek once, cups it in her palm and brushes her thumb over the soft flesh. Cosima's lip trembles, parting in a shaky inhale. A small tug is all it takes, and then Cosima is in her arms again, digging her nails painfully into the back of Delphine's neck, crushing their lips together. Their teeth clack loudly in the silence of the room. Delphine's back presses into the wall, Cosima's body pushing forward, hands clutching. She tastes the coppery tang on her tongue, feels her own blood speed through her veins, pulse in her ears. Her body reacts, her hands tug and cradle and stroke, try to soothe the unease and the dread that plagues them both. There's the clatter of plastic on the ground as Cosima lets her glasses fall to the floor, draping her arm around Delphine as best as she can in the cramped space. She feels the brunette's tears wet her cheek, and strokes a hand down her back, holding her waist, trying to slow the frantic pace of the kiss. Her heart is a jittery flutter in her chest, her breath short, lungs calling out for oxygen she can't give them.

“Cosima,” she whispers urgently against her lips, turning her head to the side. Cosima's lips hit her jaw and stay there. “Sarah will be looking. Come, I'll clean you up.” Cosima shakes her head firmly, breathes in, and sits back.

“No, I can do it. Tell her I'm fine, I'll be out in a minute.” Reluctant, Delphine nods and helps Cosima to her feet. She leaves her standing over the sink, splashing water on her face, and returns to Sarah's who's troubled expression hasn't wavered and inch. She sits quietly, lips tingling, body on fire. Sarah's face scrunches slightly.

“She's coming,” Delphine tells her. Sarah relaxes slightly then, but she examines Delphine's face. She tries hard not to touch her mouth, but know that it must be very obvious, that her lips are probably the unique kind of red that comes from kissing. True to her word, Cosima slides back into her chair a moment later. Her eyes are red, but she smiles at Sarah. Sarah reaches across the table and lays a hand over Cosima's, eyes distressed.

“I'm okay,” she says.

 

The bill comes, and Delphine snatches it before the other two can. It's the least she can do.


	2. Part 2

_And when our worlds they fall apart_  
When the walls come tumbling in  
Though we may deserve it  
It will be worth it 

 

_Halo – Depeche Mode_

 

There's no more kisses, after that first one. Her lips tingle with phantom memories of it constantly, but with Sarah always around, always concerned, fretting but trying to not show it, there's no room to initiate another, and she wants it to be on Cosima's terms, not hers. Needs it to be. She needs to know that Cosima trusts her, to an extent, but more than anything she needs to figure out how to help her, how to fix her. She can't do it sitting in Felix's loft, listening as Cosima's fits get worse, even if they don't increase in frequency, at least for the moment. Her computer can only offer her so much. She needs a library, she needs a lab, and the only place she's going to find both of those is back in Minnesota, or back in France, or god forbid back at Dyad with Leekie.

 

The last one is not a real option, not one she'll willingly take.

 

It's very hard to make herself leave Cosima. She doesn't consider asking if the brunette will go with her. She assumes that she'll want to stay by Sarah's side, to help her sister look for Kira and Mrs. S. and Felix, that she'll want Delphine to stay behind and help them look, because Cosima always puts other people before herself. She still feels like she's intruding. Sarah drinks, trying to figure out where her daughter has gone, tries to call the other one, Alison, on the phone, but never with an answer. Cosima smokes all of the drugs she brought with her despite Delphine's warning against it, and worries about her sisters. Delphine knows her mind is racing at a mile a minute, but neither of them say anything about it.

Two days pass before she works up the courage to say anything. At first, Cosima looks hurt, and Sarah looks torn between being pissed off and being relieved, but Delphine doesn't care what Sarah thinks, not really. Not right now. Cosima listens as she talks, but doesn't look at her, head in her hands, bent over her computer on the table, her glasses pushed above her eyes. When Delphine finishes speaking, she's quiet for a while. She hears Sarah pouring wine, hears a glass break, a loud curse, and then she leaves, slamming the door behind her. Delphine settles on the couch next to Cosima and slowly reaches out for her, like she's approaching a frightened animal, not wanting her to jolt and run off. Her hand meets Cosima's shoulder, and the brunette doesn't move, just sighs and straightens herself, fixing her glasses, turning her head, meeting Delphine's eyes.

“You're not leaving me,” she says finally, firmly. Delphine feels her features contort into a confused frown.

“I have to,” she says. “I can't help you here, I don't have the resources that I need.”

“You're not leaving me,” Cosima repeats, slower than before, like it'll make Delphine understand where she's coming from. Delphine opens her mouth to speak but Cosima stops her with a look. “If you're going, I'm going with you.” It's more than sufficient to shut Delphine up. She stares, shocked.

“But, Sarah-”

“Sarah can take care of herself and it's not like it's a big issue with the internet around. I'm not letting you out of my sight, okay?” Delphine's heart skips. She doesn't know if she should be offended or relieved, and ends up feeling a bit of both. Her chest constricts for the hundredth time since she left left Cosima's flat in Minnesota. She buys herself time by taking a wary, calculated breath, lets Cosima shrug her hand away only to hold it between her own, fingertips pressing gently into hers, playing while she waits for Delphine to gather her wits, to form a coherent response. Cosima's words swirl like a storm in her head.

“Are you sure?” she finally asks.

“I'm positive,” Cosima replies without hesitation. “I still have my place and I've got the money to keep it if I have to.” Cosima's place is not meant for two people, she knows that. At least, not for two people who aren't lovers, and they do not fit into that category any more, if they ever did in the first place.

“I have my own flat,” Delphine tells her, extracting her hand from Cosima's grasp to rub at her eyes, trying to banish the perpetual tiredness that's settled behind them.

“Yeah, and how much do you wanna bet that it's bugged?” Cosima asks, her tone sharp. Delphine represses a wince. It's something she had never bothered to consider. She'd blindly trusted Aldous, a decision she regrets more and more as time passes, and the tangled web of lies and deception that he had helped create, that she had willingly been a part of, grows larger and larger.

“Aldous probably already knows, he is a smart man.” Cosima doesn't hide the hatred that flashes across her face at the mention of his name, the familiarity with which Delphine speaks it, something she can't control. “You are right, though.” She doesn't ask if Cosima is okay sharing her personal space with her again, for such an extended period of time.

“Yeah, I am,” Cosima says. “Help me find all my shit, we'll tell Sarah whenever she gets back and leave tomorrow morning.”

“I will pay for the flight,” Delphine tells her, watching Cosima rise from her seat and start gathering her things, scattered around Felix's loft. There's no answer to her statement, so she stands herself and packs what little she has out back into her bag. She's always been very tidy, and when the few minutes it takes her to pack are finished, she gathers what she can see of Cosima's effects, folding clothes that have been tossed around the bed, bits of jewellery left on the make shift tables, and neatly folds everything for Cosima to put in her case. By the time Sarah returns, swaggering drunkenly through the door, they're finished and sat on the sofa. Cosima has coffee, mutilated with milk and sugar, turning it a creamy brown. Delphine has hers black. Even pissed, it doesn't take Sarah long to put two and two together. She gives them both one long look, then sighs and curls herself up in the bed without another glance.

 

It's worst in the mornings. Cosima is by her side again, squished onto the sofa after Sarah made it very clear that she wasn't allowed to share. The gurgling in her chest every time she inhales wakes her up, not that it's a difficult thing to do. She might as well be on a bed of nails. It starts with a sputter, Cosima's form lightly shaking against her own, a puff of air against her neck. The coughs start softly, rattling them both. Delphine strokes her fingers along Cosima's spine, comforting her as much as she can. It's the second time it's happened, but normally they die down. This time, they don't, and Cosima still doesn't wake up. Delphine struggles to sit her up, calling her name. Her heart's racing, pulse throbbing. The coughing wakes up Sarah, who's by her side within a minute, helping her guide Cosima, just barely on the edge of awareness, towards the bathroom, holding her over the toilet, keeping her hair from her face. Delphine rubs her shoulders, her back, whispers words of encouragement, of comfort. Her voice mixes with Sarah's, who coos over her like she's a child. Delphine can't look at the blood that splatters over everything, the clots that Cosima hacks up. It lasts for minutes, but it feels like hours, days. She turns into Delphine's arms, her body shaking, wheezing, then dragging in quick breaths, starved for oxygen.

Sarah leaves them, violently pushing aside the beads that serve as a door and stomping away. Delphine hears her kick something, throw something else, knock things to the floor, then the noise stops, and all she's aware of is Cosima's breathing, evening out far slower than it should be. When they emerge, Cosima leaning some of her weight on Delphine's shoulder, Sarah motions silently to her. Confused, Delphine frowns, until Sarah waves her fingers around her own chest. Delphine looks down, spots the blood dried on her neck and the strap of her shirt. Cosima's eyes follow. She starts to speak, presumably to apologize, but Delphine hushes her, and leaves her on the sofa.

 

In the bathroom, she scrubs the blood from her skin, and holds back the tears that cloud her eyes.

 

They leave soon after. Clearly still annoyed at the both of them, the hug that Sarah gives Cosima is short, but she promises to keep them both up to date, that she'll try and see if she can have Art at the police station do some digging, to help her find her family. She has nothing to say to Delphine. The threat is clear. Sarah watches until they reach the stairs, then the door clanks shut. Delphine steals Cosima's suitcase away from her, wrangling it and her own bag, slung over her shoulder, down the many flights until the reach the ground floor. Cosima takes it back with a small smile, bundled up in her coat, the red one Delphine loves so much.

“Thank you,” she says.

“ _Pas de problème_ ,” Delphine responds, offering up a smile of her own, another peace treaty laid on the table for her to examine. The driver of the cab they hired to take them to the airport puts their bags in the trunk for them. Delphine opens the door for Cosima, letting her slide in first. They don't speak during the trip, their hands between them on the seat. Once, Cosima brushes her pinkie finger over Delphine's. Delphine responds by linking them, hesitant, her heart drumming. Cosima doesn't pull away. It feels like a good sign.

 

The flight, at least, is uneventful. Delphine can't help but feel relieved that Cosima is still waiting for her when she gets through customs, by baggage retrieval with their things at her feet.

 

It's very strange being back in Cosima's apartment. Everything is the same, maybe a bit cleaner, without clothes and books strewn across everything. She feel like an invader, hovers in the doorway while Cosima happily walks in, obviously content to be back in her own space. Memories flutter about in her brain. The flat reeks of the scent of her, the different things that make her up. Shampoo and perfume, the soap she uses on her clothes, the faint residue of all the weed she's smoked. Cosima sees her hesitance, and, with a slightly apologetic look, softly takes her elbow and gives her a gentle tug, a reassuring smile. It's all she needs. The closing of the door behind her makes it final.

Cosima heaves her suitcase onto the bed, then coughs. It's only once, but it stops Delphine in her tracks. Cosima clears her throat and waves her off, smiling. Delphine tries to take up as little space as possible, constantly glancing around the room. There's one, very large, glaring problem about them both staying here, rather than at Delphine's flat; there's no sofa, and only one bed. Her nerves flare, catching her breath in her throat and forming a lump. Sharing the couch at Felix's had been different. It wasn't the same as a bed, and Sarah was a “blanket hog” Cosima had said. This bed, though... Delphine remembers very acutely what happened in that bed. What happened in front of the desk she's standing by. Every detail, every gasp and moan and touch. She feels her face begin to burn, and quickly pushes the thoughts away. There's no room for them, now.

“I need to go shopping,” Cosima states dully. “There's hardly enough for _me_ here. Wanna come with?”

“Yes,” Delphine replies, “if you would like me to.”

“Yeah,” Cosima tells her, shutting the fridge door. “I have no idea what kind of stuff you like. Aside from truffles and wine.” Delphine's heart aches.

“And cigarettes,” she adds. Cosima giggles softly in response.

“Yeah, and cigarettes. Come on, then, we can unpack later. Food is _so_ more important than clothes right now.”

 

It all feels rather domestic, shopping with Cosima, and makes a warm feeling bloom through her chest, even though she's basically been relegated to cart duty while Cosima flounces ahead of her, stopping periodically to gather an armful of things before returning and dumping them in the basket. It's enough to make Delphine forget everything that's happened for a while, enough to let her pretend that they're nothing more than a young couple doing their food shopping.

“Have you ever had this?” Cosima asks constantly. “Do you know what this is? Oh, you have to try this! We can check out what French food they've got if you want.” Delphine smiles at everything, nods or shakes her head in response, picks out a few things of her own and pretends not to notice when Cosima slips sweets among the other items. It's something she didn't know before, how much Cosima loves food. By the time they've finished it seems like there's enough food in their cart for an entire household of people, far more than the two of them should ever have needed, but if it made Cosima happy, she'd buy the entire store.

The woman behind them in the check out line keeps staring at them. Cosima doesn't seem to notice, consumed with putting their items on the belt while the person in front of them finishes up and starts to pay, but Delphine is aware of it. She doesn't look cross, but is smiling at them both, and when she catches Delphine looking her grin widens, a happy look forming on her face. Delphine smiles awkwardly back, moving to help Cosima with the last of the food. The woman taps her on the shoulder. Delphine looks over curiously.

“You two make a very lovely couple,” she says, still smiling. “How long have you been together?” Delphine feels her face burn, and is sure that her cheeks are as red as Cosima's jacket. Cosima looks awkward, the tips of her ears red, and stumbles over her words as she tries to explain that Delphine's just a friend who's visiting for a while as part of some exchange program. The woman apologizes for wrongly assuming, which Cosima waves off with a smile, saying it happens all the time, and scoots down the line to bag their groceries. Delphine joins her when she's placed the last few items on the belt, rolling the cart behind her.

 

“Do we really look like a couple?” Delphine asks, her arms full of bags, with those she can't hold on the ground by her feet while Cosima searches for the key to the door. She shrugs in response, keys jingling and knocking lightly against the wood, and doesn't answer until the door is open and she can relieve Delphine's load somewhat, shoving a few of the lighter bags across the threshold with her food. Delphine squeezes in behind her, apologizing when their bodies brush.

“I don't know. I guess maybe we give off that kind of vibe. I mean, we have, like, done shit.” Her voice grows awkward as she speaks, trailing off into a loud silence. Delphine piles her bags on the counter, not looking at Cosima. There wasn't any particular organization to Cosima's food cabinets, not like her books, which were alphabetized, or the files on her laptop, which were precisely labelled and easy to find. Her kitchen was more like her dresser, things pushed this way and that, shoved wherever Cosima had been putting things at the time. She tries to be neater when she puts things away, almost obsessively so, but it gives her something to focus her mind on, and something to fill the air between them. Cosima folds up the bags and stores them away, tucking them in a cabinet. Delphine listens, putting the last cans away, as Cosima tosses her coat somewhere and unzips her suitcase. In the quiet, she can hear the soft thump of clothes hitting the bed, the squeak of Cosima's dresser and rattle of the wardrobe doors. When there's no food left, she spins around and leans against the counter with her arms over her chest, unease settling over her once more. She tries not to watch Cosima, freezes when the brunette coughs twice, then relaxes when it doesn't go any further.

“Cosima?” she calls, softly, her voice betraying far more of the anxiousness she feels than she's comfortable with. Cosima hums and briefly glances over to her, carrying a pile of clothes around one side of the bed to the other and vanishing from sight. When Delphine doesn't continue she stops at the foot of the bed and stares at her, head cocked to the side. “Where am I going to sleep?” Delphine finally asks, digging her teeth into her lip and looking away. Cosima exhales into a sigh. Delphine hears her start to move again.

“In bed,” she says. “Obvs.”

“Yes,” Delphine breathes out, rubbing her forehead, dragging her fingers through her hair. “Yes. Of course.”

“I mean, it's not a big deal is it? We shared the couch, and that's way smaller than my bed. No problem. I've made some room for your stuff, do you care if I put it away or do you wanna do it yourself?”

“I'll do it,” Delphine replies. She pushes away from the counter, taking a deep breath and sighing. “No, no problem,” Delphine repeats, softly, to herself, crossing the room and stepping into the space Cosima occupies, where she's shifting some of her clothes around to make more room for Delphine's.

“Might be a bit cramped, sorry,” she says, trying to sound casual but the tension between them is thick enough to cut with a spoon, let alone a knife, heavy and suffocating, weighing down on her shoulders and compressing her chest. She takes up as little space as she can with her clothes, packing them small and tight next to Cosima's and trying very, very hard to ignore how right it feels to see them beside each other, because she's still not sure if that's a privilege she'll ever be able to earn back. She removes herself from the room with her laptop as soon as she can, hesitating before allowing herself to sit in Cosima's desk chair, determined to make a start on her research now that she's back in a place where she has the things she needs to do so. Thankfully, or perhaps not, she knows Cosima's symptoms without having to ask, knows that things are only going to get worse from here, knows that Cosima is going to die if she doesn't find the right information to fix everything. It's her motivation, even if it is one that strikes fear into her very soul.

 

She'll never get used to the sounds of Cosima coughing, which tear her from her laptop a few hours later until it's passed and Cosima waves her off with a weak smile.

 

She feels a hand on her shoulder late that night, stirring her from her position at the desk, falling asleep with her head resting in her hand, laptop screen having long gone black. It doesn't take more than a touch to wake her, and she sits up, blinking and waiting for her brain to adjust to the sudden pick up in her heart rate. She clears her throat and reaches for the glass of water by her hand to relieve the dryness that's settled in her mouth and throat, listening to Cosima move off and tracking her with her head, giving her a smile of thanks when the brunette looks back at her.

“It's late,” Cosima tells her. At some point she'd changed into clothes more suited for sleep. “Come to bed. You can work more in the morning.” The words do nothing to help the pounding of Delphine's heart, which only increases again as she realizes what going to bed really means. Sharing the sofa was one thing, she thinks again, but this is far different. This is Cosima's bed, the place where Delphine truly realized her feelings, the ones she was never supposed to have harboured in the first place. Cosima gives her privacy so she can change and brush her teeth, wash her face and try not to gawk at her reflection in the mirror, at the defeated look in her eyes and the dark bags under them, at the pallid complexion of her skin. She sighs and rubs her hands across her face again, steeling herself, preparing her mind, her heart, for what the night is going to bring.

Cosima's left her plenty of room on the bed, and entire half of it for herself, the other occupied by her and her laptop, balanced on blanketed knees, the noise blocked from Delphine's ears by the buds Cosima has in hers. Cosima waits until Delphine's in bed, then bites her lip and turns off the light, leaving only the blue-tinted hue to highlight her face. It feels very odd, sharing a bed with her. She almost wishes for Felix's very lumpy, rather uncomfortable sofa, just because it felt less... she doesn't quite know what, but she knows that Cosima's body posture is tight, controlled, even on the comfort of the mattress. Delphine rolls onto her side, away from her, closes her eyes and tries to relax. She thinks about the kiss in the bathroom, about Cosima's smile, the way it lights up her face, shines in her eyes. She listens to Cosima's breathing, waits for a fit that doesn't come, although she does cough several times. They're light, like the inside of her throat is being tickled.

 

When she wakes up in the morning, before Cosima does, it's to the feeling of the brunette's fingers lightly curled into her shirt, even though Cosima's still on her side of the bed.

 

She makes them both breakfast. It's the smell of it that wakes Cosima up. Delphine hears her shift in bed, followed by the familiar coughing. She waits with baited breath. Cosima slams the door to the bathroom shut to try and mask the sound, but it does little good. Between the coughs, Delphine can hear her sucking in deep breaths, like she's fighting against someone who's trying to hold her head underwater. She moves the pan off the burner, unnerved by the silence. Her hands shake as she reaches for the doorknob, knocking gently before turning it. Cosima's hunched over the sink when Delphine peeks in. She looks over her shoulder, in the middle of wiping blood off her lips with the back of her hand.

“I'm not dead yet,” she jokes, voice rough. “I'll be out in a second.” Delphine bites her lip, retreating without so much as a nod, gently shutting the door again. She resumes her cooking, and is dishing up everything when the bathroom door clicks then creaks softly as it opens, and she hears Cosima's bare feet padding softly across the wooden floorboards. Cosima smiles when she takes her plate, their fingers brushing. “This smells good,” she says. Delphine examines her. The resemblance to Sarah strikes her again, now that Cosima's face is clear of cosmetics, her glasses still sitting on the bedside table, but there still something distinctly different about her, something that makes her Cosima, and not Sarah, or Alison, or any of the other clones. She eats in bed, and Delphine in the desk chair, computer already booted up, hands tapping at the keys between mouthfuls of food. She can feel Cosima's eyes on her, but doesn't look back.

That's how it goes, for a while. For a week. For two. Delphine gradually feels less like a stranger, but she's tired. She's hardly slept, putting as much of her energy as she's able into digging up what information she can, trying to take care of Cosima as much as the brunette will let her, and there's still been no good news from Sarah. She knows Cosima is aware of the severity of her illness, and there have already been times when Delphine's come home from the library or from the lab, clutching books and papers and her laptop to find Cosima asleep in the middle of the day, or hacking up her lungs in the bathroom. She knows that Cosima's trying to hide it from her as much as she can, trying to stand on her own two feet and keep Delphine from worrying. She knows Cosima's trying to help her as well. She finds notes on her computer in the morning with websites or terms and phrases for her to research that day but she's not finding anything. _Nothing_. She could scream. She wants to. Cosima's getting worse and worse and she still can't isolate what it is that's causing the problem so she can figure out the best way to treat it, no matter how many samples of Cosima's DNA she examines.

 

“Delphine, please come to bed,” Cosima says, sounding frustrated. Delphine's head is pounding, her entire body tense with the stress of the past few weeks, with the ache she constantly feels for Cosima's touch building and building as time goes on. She wants to kiss her, she wants to hold her, she wants to prove that she's a good lover. Being so close to her, and not being able to, wearing herself down to the bone with researching but not finding anything, are both slowly killing her. She hears Cosima shuffle across the room to her and feels her slim fingers wrap around her arm. Irritated, more with herself than with Cosima, she pulled her arm away, then shrugs Cosima's hand off when it moves to her shoulder, shoving both her hands into her hair and bending over her laptop. It's the third time Cosima's asked her in the past half an hour. Delphine knows it's late, she knows she's tired, she knows that Cosima is only trying to look after her, but she just can't deal with any of it. She can't deal with Cosima's concern, with the way they've been flitting around each other, with the constant urge to crush their lips together, with the fear that each fit the brunette has is going to be the last.

“Delphine, please,” Cosima tries again. “Don't tell me you're not tired, I know you are.”

“It doesn't matter,” Delphine mutters in reply, rubbing her temples.

“It _does_ matter.” Her voice sounds closer. Delphine lifts her head to see her standing by her side, with her hands on her hips, staring her down. “You're working yourself to death, okay? I can't stand seeing you like this.”

“And how do you think _I_ feel, watching your life ebb away day by day!” Delphine erupts, unable to help it, her emotions bubbling over the edge. “I have found _nothing_ , Cosima, do you know what that means? _Nothing._ ”

“It's only been a couple weeks,” Cosima tries, looking somewhat shocked at Delphine's sudden outburst.

“Ce n'est pas une raison!” Delphine interrupts before she can continue, slamming the lid of her lap top down, throwing the book next to it across the room. “Merde! Fuck!” Violently, she pushes away from the desk and stalks to the other side of the room, tugging at her hair, wrapping an arm around her waist and chewing at her nails, pacing. “You're dying, Cosima. This is going to kill you, like it would have killed the German, and I can't figure out what causes it so I can't fix it! I can't stop working, I don't care how tired I may be, I _will not stop_ until I have found a way to cure this. I cannot just stand here and let you slip away from me! It is. So. Difficult, Cosima. You have no idea.” She shakes her head, takes a shuddering breath and pushes away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I don't even know what I'm doing,” she whispers. Cosima is by the desk, her fingertips hovering on the back of the chair Delphine had vacated, looking torn between wanting to leave the room and wanting to go to her. Delphine can't look for long. She turns away, hugging herself tighter, fighting tears.

She doesn't hear Cosima's approach, her bare feet making no sound on the floor, but she feels her fingertips against her spine. Arms slide around her waist, a familiar body pressing against hers. Cosima's cheek warms the back of her shoulder. Her hands pry, fingers wrapping around Delphine's elbows and loosening her arms. They snake up then, fingers threading into the spaces between Delphine's own, squeezing gently. Delphine closes her eyes, squeezes them tightly. Her heart thumbs, flesh burning where Cosima's skin touches it, like it always does, like it has since that first handshake. A mouth brushes against the side of her neck, right where it connects to her shoulder. Delphine sighs, feeling suddenly like she has sandbags tied to all her limbs, the fight leaving her in a rush. Her skin tingles. She feels Cosima's breath wash across her neck, lips meeting her again, kissing a line, slow and gentle, down her shoulder. Her fingers flex, leave Delphine's to settle on her hips. Cosima's nose presses against her. She feels more than hears her sigh.

“Cosima,” Delphine says softly, hating how defeated her voice sounds. She knows what's coming, she can feel it, deep in her bones, in her soul. Cosima shakes her head, tightens her grip on Delphine's hips and gently turns her around, head tilted back slightly so their eyes can meet. Her thumbs slip under the hem of Delphine's shirt and push against her hipbones, rubbing circles, pressing softly. It would be relaxing if her heart wasn't slamming against her throat, and if her chest wasn't full of anticipation so strong it was painful, but they are. Cosima doesn't answer her, takes a step forward instead, closing all distance between their bodies and gently brushing their lips together, a stark contrast from the last kiss, but not like the first, after dinner, Cosima's coy looks, somehow managing to be sure and unsure at the same point in time. Not like the second, when Delphine was so afraid that she'd mess or chicken out and blow the entire thing, and then her desire had hit her like a truck and she hadn't be able to stop. It's the same now, the way it builds up inside, Cosima's touch feeding the fire that started in her stomach, but the kiss is gentle, tender. It makes her want to cry. Cosima's testing both of them, with her lips and fingers, pushing at the boundaries that they've been tiptoeing around, seeing how much pressure she can use before they break, and probably ready to break them anyway.

Cosima takes Delphine's reaction as a good sign, and responds by digging her nails into Delphine's hips and kissing her again. Harder, faster, her teeth scraping over lip, hands moving, feeling, travelling up her sides and splitting briefly from her body only to tangle in her hair. She stands on her toes, pressing forward, nearly toppling them both over. Delphine's hands shoot out behind her, meeting the wall to keep Cosima's weight from tipping them. Cosima moves with her, hips banging into hers and pressing her back flat against the structure behind her. Her tongue teases, fingers twisting. Delphine touches her jaw, sliding her fingertips along its ridge and down her neck, thumb pressing against the underside of it. There's no blood in the kiss, only Cosima, a trace of mint from her toothpaste. The brunette's fingers shock across her skin, reaching down for her hands and pulling. They stumble their way across the room until Cosima's hip bumps the desk and Delphine pins her against it, hands against its surface, trapping Cosima between her arms. She drapes them around her neck and shoulders. She pushes, dislodging Delphine's footing enough for her to gain the upper hand, tugging her shirt over her head, hands exploring the flesh she's revealed.

It's static, electric. Delphine feels the goosebumps raising along her stomach. Cosima takes a step forward, forcing her a step back, fingers plucking at the fastenings of her jeans. It's quick and frenzied, but Delphine has no trouble keeping up, letting the dam that's been holding her back finally collapse, flooding her feelings and needs and desires through her. The button on her trousers pops open, Cosima's fingers just barely touching the band of her underwear, but not moving, not until they've sloppily guided each other to the bed and fallen onto it in a heap of tangled limbs. Cosima's lips find her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She tugs at the brunette's clothes, needs to feel her skin, soft and warm and pliant against hers. They're desperate, their motions, like no matter how much they kiss and bite and claw and touch it won't be enough. She knows what she's doing now, almost. She remembers how different it is, touching and being touched by a woman, and she has so much that she needs to say, to show, an entire dictionary of things that Cosima needs to know and understand.

Cosima's talented fingers find her, face pressed into her stomach, kissing next to her navel, the bottom of their ribs, moving slowly up at Delphine's urging. She pauses at her breasts, nipping gently at their curve, her breath cool against Delphine's warm skin. Delphine shifts, rocking her hips against Cosima's hand, finding the rhythm that they settle into, feeling slick heat against her bare thigh when Cosima moves, finally lifting herself to mash her lips against Delphine's when her pleading finally draws enough of the brunette's attention. She can feel it building in the pit of her stomach but she wants it to last, needs it to last. She doesn't want this moment to end, hanging on the tipping point with skilled hands drawing gasps and moans from her throat, with soft lips tugging at her own.

Cosima's fingers guide her into her climax, through it, linger when her back relaxes against the bed and her grip on Cosima's hair loosens. She feels them, wet against her inner thigh, while her blood rushes in her ears like ocean waves and her heart hammers an erratic beat against her ribs. Cosima's kisses stay gentle, tender, bringing her back to the present while she comes down from her high, while her body recovers and her brain kick starts into gear. When it does, she takes the lead, putting pressure into her kisses, pushing up, hands on Cosima's shoulders to roller her onto her side, following through until she's on top and Cosima is arching into her, pulling on her hair and tilting her head back, exposing her neck to Delphine's attentions.

She's nervous. She can feel it in the quick stuttering of her heart, see it in the trembling of her hands as they wander along the curve of Cosima's stomach and the ridges of her ribs, feelings the rises and dips, dipping her head down to trace the edge of the brunette's collarbone with her lips. Cosima's hands rake through her hair to grasp at her shoulders, pulling her closer, stroking her skin soothingly, even as her hips grind up, seeking pressure. Out of instinct, she presses back, but this is where she grows unsure, the same as that first time, even though she knows what Cosima likes, even if she never had the time to discover all the little places that make her squirm or gasp. Cosima notices and slips her legs around until she can press herself against Delphine's thigh, rubbing along it with a satisfied groan, leaving Delphine free for a moment to lavish more kisses on her throat. She listens to the pace of Cosima's breathing, feels her pulse race beneath her lips.

“I need you to touch me,” she whispers, rough, breathless, and Delphine distantly hears herself half-sigh, half-moan at the words, burying her face against Cosima's neck. She obeys, nudging her fingers between Cosima and her leg, experimenting, slipping, trying to find the right spot and the right motion, using the noises the brunette makes as encouragement. Cosima jerks at the contact. Delphine feels the answering moan vibrate in her throat. She kisses the brunette's pulse, presses her fingers, lets Cosima guide her by the wrist to where she's needed the most. Cosima holds her so tight it's hard to breathe, but she wouldn't possibly have it any other way. She tries to hold back, to draw it out, to make Cosima feel what she does. She doesn't want it to end, afraid of what will happen when it does.

 

She has no reason to be. When Cosima's clenched around her fingers with a cry muffled by her neck, she hardly wastes any time before her hands are clawing at Delphine's skin again.

 

It's almost dawn by the time they're both spent, and it's the closest to sleep Delphine's been in days, short of passing out in the middle of research at Cosima's desk, or in the library where the quiet gives her nothing to concentrate on to stay conscious. She cries, then, for the first time since she'd left Cosima's apartment after their fight, when she hadn't been quick enough to shut the door and the sound of Cosima's pained sobs had set off a trigger in her brain that made her break down almost at the same instant. Cosima holds her close, and strokes her hair, and she doesn't deserve any of it for what she did, didn't deserve to be shown what she was, to share that intimacy with Cosima again, no matter how much she yearned for it.

“I'm not some naïve college girl, Delphine,” Cosima says softly, when Delphine's finally calmed some, her tone gentle. Her fingers tangle in Delphine's hair and rub the back of her head. “I know what's happening, I did the research, I looked at Katja's DNA and mine, and I know what all of this means. I-” She pauses. Delphine can hear the uncertainty in the silence. “I care about you. A lot. I don't want you hurting yourself on my account so just...” She sighs. “I trust you.” Delphine's chest tightens, tears building in her eyes again. Her lip quivers. She turns her face into Cosima's sternum again, like doing so will hide her well enough that she'll just disappear, but Cosima doesn't allow her. The brunette pulls away, grips Delphine's chin and forces her to look up.

“I'm so sorry,” Delphine whispers, her voice choked, wispy.

“I trust you, Delphine,” Cosima repeats, firmly. Her fingers stroke along Delphine's jaw. “And I forgive you.”


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me so long.

_Give me more than the things that I've lived for_  
I'm only echoes of the man that I'm supposed to be  
Because I want more of the things I'd die for  
I want to feel it in my soul 

“ _The Kiss of Life” - The Dear Hunter_

 

“Art's found a lead.” Sarah's voice, crackly and a bit tinny, erupts through the flat, sounding happier than Delphine's ever heard it. She perks up from where she's sat at Cosima's desk and leans back in the chair to look into Cosima's bedroom, curious.

“Shit, really?” comes Cosima's answer, startled but pleased. “Sarah, that's great!”

“Yeah, I don't know details but, he says it's... he says it's pretty good.” Cosima glances up, smiling across the room at her. Delphine smiles back, then goes back to her work, only half-listening to Sarah's voice through the speakers, running her finger down the page of the book she has spread across her laptop.

“Don't do anything stupid,” she hears Cosima say.

“I'll do what I have to,” Sarah replies. There a pause, heavy even over Skype. “How are you holding up?” Delphine looks up again at that, looking through to the bedroom once more. Cosima meets her eyes, sighs softly, and returns her gaze to her laptop.

“I'm fine,” she answers, but Delphine can hear the hesitance in her voice, the lie. Sarah doesn't seem to, but maybe she's just pretending, like they all are.

“Good,” Sarah's voice crackles. “Cos, I've gotta go, yeah?”

“Be safe,” Cosima repeats. The call ends. Delphine listens, but keeps her eyes on her work. There's the shutting of Cosima's laptop lid, the rustling of her body moving across the bedsheets, the soft pad of her bare feet on the wood and carpet. She leans back into Cosima's touch, letting her eyes slide shut as strong fingers ghost over her shoulders and arms wrap around her, head falling against Cosima's chest. “You're working too hard again.”

“I will work as hard as I need to,” Delphine replies, moaning appreciatively when Cosima begins to work her fingers into the knotted muscles under her skin.

“Too hard,” Cosima repeats, kissing the side of her head, the back of her jaw. Delphine's heart flutters, her chest feeling tight and too small. “Take a break, make me something to eat.” She hears the smile in Cosima's voice, the teasing inflection of her tone. Playfully, she swats her hands away, rolling her shoulders and neck.

“Cheeky,” she says. Cosima's hands return.

“Take a break, babe,” she says, easily. It's new, and pleasant. She bites back a smile and tilts her head back. Cosima's lips find hers, gentle, careful. “I'm not going anywhere.” Another kiss, reassuring.

“Okay,” Delphine sighs against her lips. She feels Cosima's answering grin, and the shift of her arm moving forward to close the computer. It clicks loudly in the silence. She lefts her hand to Cosima's jaw, holding her for another kiss, one she's still afraid to take. It's a process. Over the last week Cosima has been guiding her, but she hasn't forgiven herself for her betrayal, even though Cosima has. She doesn't feel like she's earned the trust she's been given, but she'll fight, that she knows, that she's sure of. One day she'll feel like she deserves the beautiful woman brushing fingers along her throat.

“Get your coat,” Cosima tells her, pulling away, robbing Delphine of her warmth and comfort.

“Why?” Delphine inquires, spinning in her chair to watch Cosima move through the room.

“Because I want coffee, and you need fresh air. I don't think you've moved from that computer in a week,” is the answer she's given, teasing and smart and delivered with a smirk.

“I've left it,” Delphine argues. Cosima pulls a face, arching an eyebrow at her while she tugs her coat on over her sweater.

“You traded it for one at the library instead, stop trying to bullshit me,” Cosima replies, not unkindly, smiling. “Come on.” Delphine smiles at her.

“My treat,” she says, standing and accepting her coat from Cosima's outstretched hand.

 

Cosima takes her hand the second they step out the door, even though it means she fumbles with her keys with the other to find the right one to lock up, tightening her grip when Delphine tries to let go to free her. She doesn't let go, tangling their fingers, slotting hers perfectly into the spaces between Delphine's. She ignores the occasional stares. They don't understand, and never will, not from a scientific perspective, or from an emotional one. Cosima is beautiful, she thinks, watching her as she talks, leading. She will save her. It's constantly on her mind, even when she lets Cosima drag her away from working, the cogs in her brain whirring, dredging up years of knowledge from school and work and study, recalling what she knows about the clones. It keeps her up at night, a welcome relief from the nightmares that haunt her sleeping hours of Cosima no longer being in her life, that linger even after she's woken up to Cosima curled into her arms, warm and alive, her breath warm against Delphine's collarbone.

“Delphine, are you listening?”

“Hm?” Cosima squeezes her fingers, rolling her eyes. “I am sorry, ma cherie,” Delphine placates.

“I can see you worrying,” Cosima responds, tugging her close while they wait for the light to change and let them cross the street. Her free arm slides around Delphine's waist, holding, supporting. “I'm okay.” Delphine turns her gaze, unable to meet Cosima's eyes. “Hey,” Cosima says in response, squeezing her hand. “Look at me.” Delphine sighs, briefly squeezes her eyes shut, then looks. “I trust you,” Cosima says, firmly, standing on her tiptoes and kissing her quickly.

 

People will stare, she thinks, as Cosima pulls her across the road, rushing and giggling, because they are jealous.

 

The fresh air does her head well, proving again that Cosima might just know her better than she knows herself. For a while, it stills her thoughts, and Cosima hasn't coughed once. For a while, she can convince herself that everything is normal. She's not a double agent, or sorts, and Cosima's not sick, or a clone, just a normal postgrad student, who asks Delphine for help on occasion with her dissertation, and gets stressed out and ignores her work to smoke pot and eat ice cream and watch TV show, and complains about wanting to stay in bed all day even while putting on her make up and getting dressed for her labs. Delphine indulges herself with a pastry which Cosima promptly steals part of with a laugh, kissing crumbs off the corner of Delphine's mouth and offering some of her drink in return. They hide out inside the shop, sheltering themselves for a while from the weather, not really talking, but sitting, enjoying the company and the dull chatter of voices and machines around them.

“If you want to go to the library later,” Cosima finally says, swirling a spoon in the mug of hot chocolate she sacrificed another coffee for, “I'll go with you. I can help.”

“You have your own work to do,” Delphine replies.

“Don't be so stubborn,” Cosima scolds gently, licking her spoon off in a way that isn't intended to be sexy, but comes off as such regardless. “I'm going to whether you like it or not.” That much is true, Delphine knows. There's no use trying to talk Cosima out of it, but it doesn't make her any happier. She wants to save Cosima from the stress of having to deal with it all. She has her own problems, between her degree and her sisters. It's Delphine's job to take some of the weight of her illness off her shoulders, to make her life easier. It's her duty to prove that her feelings, the ones she still can't admit, whether through her own hesitance or her own fear she's not sure, that her intentions are true. That she might still be playing both sides of the field but it's for Cosima's benefit, for her safety, for the safety of the others. To keep Kira out of the clutches of the corporation that had lured Delphine into its belly with a mix of money and blackmail and the manipulation of her own curiosity.

“You do not have to,” Delphine tries, but Cosima silences her with a look that still manages to be threatening even with chocolate staining her upper lip. She's been learning from Sarah, Delphine thinks, ignoring her sudden desire to become one with the chair she's sitting in.

“I want to,” she says firmly. “Two brains are better than one.” Delphine chews on her lip, sighs, looks down into her empty mug.

“I was going to go tonight to see if I missed something before,” she confesses.

“Then I'll go with you,” Cosima tells her, voice conclusive. “Maybe I can find something you didn't see.”

 

In the end, she does.

 

Perhaps it's because, despite all that time she spent studying, Cosima has always known her own biology better than her, or perhaps it was her longer exposure to the symptoms, and the access to the German's samples that she had had before they had even met. Perhaps it's her better understanding of her symptoms, even though she had explained them as best as she could with Delphine had asked. It doesn't happen that night, or the next, or the next, but the week later, after a rather bad night, leaving Cosima tired and looking sick and pale, curled up on the edge of the bed and ignoring Delphine's attempts to comfort her, a bloody tissue clutched in her hand. Now, Cosima struts up to her with a folder of papers in her hands and a sheepish smile on her face, though her skin is still whiter than it should be, and the shadows under her eyes are darker than they were before. Delphine looks up from the book spread out in front of her, watching Cosima lightly toss the folder down on top of it.

“I might have been doing some research of my own,” she says. “I was waiting for the results to get back, had Scott checking some things out for me.”

“I am sure that is not the only thing he was checking out,” Delphine grumbles, far less annoyed than she would have been normally, distracted by the papers in front of her.

“If it gets me what I want...” Cosima says, pulling out the chair next to her. “There's no harm in him looking.”

“As long as he does not touch.” Cosima inches closer, leaning against her, scanning over the results as Delphine does.

“Can you do anything with this?” she asks, rubbing Delphine's upper arm. It feels like an apology. For the moment, Delphine ignores her, carefully looking at the words and letters and numbers and pictures that had been delivered to her. She recognizes some of it, and more looks similar to strands she is familiar with, but some she doesn't understand at all. She frowns down at it, drawing Cosima's concern. “Delphine?” A spark of hope ignites in her chest, something she hasn't felt in months, in years. She feels the grin spreading across her face, her mind racing with things she wants to say, yet not moving quickly enough to formulate the words and send the signals for her mouth and throat to form them. Instead, she turns and grabs Cosima's face, firmly bringing their lips together. She doesn't care that they're not alone, and that her sudden movement draws the attention of the people at the next table over. She can feel their stares boring into the space between her shoulder blades, and distantly registers a low whistle. Cosima's surprise causes her hesitance, but after a second of shock she kisses back, her hands resting against the base of Delphine's neck. “Is that a yes?” she mutters when they part, sounding breathless in the way that she does when Delphine is kissing her neck or raising goosebumps on her skin.

“Oui,” Delphine whispers, feeling her eyes sting with tears, biting her lip. “Oui. Yes.” She kisses her again, moving too quickly and knocking against Cosima's glasses, resulting in awkward giggling through it.

“Should I get some wine to celebrate?” Cosima offers with a smirk. “And you could get more truffles... We can have that date I managed to spectacularly screw up.” Delphine strokes her cheek, traces the shell of her ear, catches her thumb against her bottom lip.

“You did not screw up anything,” she says. “It was my fault, but we are past that now, yes?” The almost pleading tone in her voice is nearly enough to make her wince, but she can't control it. She doubts, as she always has. She hopes, too.

“Yeah, totally,” Cosima tells her, grinning, playing with her hair. She breaks eye contact to glance over her shoulder, and pulls a face. “Come on, let's get out of here. I have a very large urge to go truffle shopping with you.” She helps Delphine gather papers, leaving the books on a cart to be replaced despite Delphine's protests, and leads her out of the library by the hand. They're laughing by the time they leave the school campus.

 

She feels like she could fly.

 

“What did you do with the ones that I brought you?” Delphine asks, her curiosity getting the best of her. She holds the bag with the wine, expensive, but worth it, and watches as Cosima excitedly picks over the chocolate in the case, occasionally asking for samples, and picking out what she wants. Delphine almost regrets telling her she can have whatever and however much she wants, the results of which are certainly going to hurt her wallet when added on top of the wine, though she's hardly short on money.

“Uhhh...” Cosima starts, gesticulating with one hand while the other guides her eyes along the row of sweets. “I may have thrown them out in a completely justified fit of sadness and rage. Sorry.”

“No, no, it's okay,” Delphine replies. “As you said, justified.” Cosima looks over her shoulder and graces her with a smile, then sighs, looking satisfied.

“Okay, I'm done. I think I've spent enough money for the day.” Delphine chuckles.

“If you want more, you are welcome,” she urges, juggling the bag and her purse to reach for her wallet.

“You don't get a body like this sitting around eating chocolate all day,” Cosima jokes, moving to give Delphine space at the counter. “If I eat any more of it I'm going to turn into a pig.”

“You would be a very cute pig,” Delphine says, smiling, handing over the cash for the chocolate.

“Okay,” Cosima drawls. “That's a really weird compliment, but I'll take it.”

“Anything to boost your ego, oui?” Delphine asks, teasing. She accepts the bag from the cashier, only to have Cosima take it from her hands. “Maybe I should stop. If it gets any bigger your head will not fit out of the door.”

“Hey!” Cosima slaps her arm with the back of her hand, playfully, her eyes dancing. “I don't have an inflated ego,” she mutters, holding open the door.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I'm sure that if you don't stop I'm not going to share any of my truffles with you.” Delphine laughs so hard that she has to stop walking until she calms down. When she looks up, Cosima rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. “Let's go home, get drunk, and work off all this chocolate.”

 

Cosima pulls out another bottle when they've finished the first, even though they don't get very far into it before an innocent kiss quickly turns into more, and they're falling into bed with hands pulling drunkenly at each other's clothes, missing lips and landing kisses on chins and shoulders, giggling slipping out in-between sighs and gasps and moans. Cosima is clumsy when she's drunk, knocking her knees and hands into Delphine when she misjudges the distance between them, but her kisses still light a fire in Delphine's stomach, enriched by the alcohol, and she tastes like wine and chocolate and caramel and Cosima all wrapped up in one. Cosima's name is a mantra on her lips, her body arching against her mouth and fingers, still skilled even when she's intoxicated. She's loud, she knows, but Cosima does things to her that no one else has. She touches her once and Delphine can feel her all over. A simple kiss radiates through out her entire body, and she has a way with her hands that unravels her from the inside out.

 

The euphoria doesn't last forever, but Delphine revels in it while it does.

 

Cosima has a bad few days, and it brings all of the tension Delphine had been feeling back with a vengeance. They snap at each other constantly, their stress and tense moods clashing violently. Being sick puts Cosima on edge, and her testiness grates on Delphine's nerves, already worn down to raw nubs. There are nights they do not hold each other while they sleep, and nights were Delphine falls asleep at the desk, using borrowed equipment to try and isolate the problem cells from the test results she'd been given. Eventually, Cosima's health improves, but the tension lingers before it fades, and they're back to where they were before, with Cosima begging Delphine to take a break and Delphine refusing, working herself down to the bone.

“I'm so close,” she argues each time. “I can feel it.” And Cosima sighs and brings her slightly burnt eggs in the morning with coffee laden with sugar, looks after her when she should be looking after herself. Delphine takes advantage of the time she has alone while Cosima is in class, often forgetting to eat until Cosima comes home with take out or asking if Delphine will make something she craves. She's still hopeful, and she knows that the solution, or at least something temporary, is in her grasp, but she can't wrap her mind around it. She doesn't recognize the strands she obviously needs to understand. They're similar to a virus, making an extreme case of tuberculosis out of the question, not that Delphine had held out much hope for something so simple in the first place. Cosima continues to run tests of her own, taking advantage of her lab partner's obvious infatuation with her, something that makes Delphine wand to claw his eyes out on occasion, because even though she's never verbally said it, Cosima is hers.

 

It's the most jealous she's felt of anyone in her life.

 

She ends up admitting it after a short, but violent argument that resulted in angry red lines along Cosima's back, and a swollen lip where Cosima had bitten too hard. It was the roughest they'd ever been, the roughest Delphine had been with _anyone,_ fuelled by stress and anger and frustration, a clash of teeth and nails and tempers. All it had taken was the wrong food arriving at their door, and Delphine had bubbled over, Cosima's attempts to placate her falling short. She isn't proud of her reaction, or the rushed frenzy of the following actions, something that she normally considered almost sacred. It had been good, more than, it had felt exhilarating, channelling her rage into something that gave them both pleasure, even through the sting of fingers holding too tight and teeth scraping too hard. She soothes the wounds she caused with gentle kisses, whispering apologies against Cosima's skin.

“That was crazy,” Cosima comments, the tension between the evaporated. “You should get pissed off more often. Delphine answers with a non-committal hum. Cosima turns her head, pillowing it on her arms and looks at her, her brow furrowed cutely in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Delphine says, hesitating. “I am... I'm not used to that.”

“What, angry slash make up sex?” Cosima asks, closing her eyes, Delphine's answer sating her.

“Yes,” she repeats. Cosima gropes for her hand. Delphine slots them together. Her heart leaps up, lodges in her throat, sticks. Cosima toys with her fingers. She inhales, deeply, slowly. She needs to say it, the words tumbling around in her head since their fight, before Cosima had found her out, before she left, before she was sick, demanding to be free, but she needs to do it properly, not turn it into a sloppy mess like she had everything else. “Cosima,” she starts, but her voice catches. She has to tell her, now, before their time runs out, still a possibility regardless of how much Delphine wishes with all of her being that it isn't so. She sighs, takes a deep breath, tries again. “Cosima, look at me.” Cosima's eyes flutter open, dark and curious, searching her own. “All of those things that I said that night, I swear to you they were true.” Cosima opens her mouth, probably to reassure, but Delphine shakes her head. “No, just listen. Please. I have more than just... fallen for you. I didn't say it before, because it wouldn't have been right, but I need to before... You are the most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I have done terrible things to you, I have hurt you in ways that I never wanted to. Please, believe me when I say that... I feel so much for you that sometimes I can hardly contain it, but I don't want to hide it anymore.” Cosima's lips curve into a smile that makes Delphine's heart swell and her brain melt simultaneously. She touches Delphine's jaw, stroking her skin tenderly.

“I already know,” she says. Delphine sighs out a laugh, relief flooding through her.

“Is there anything you don't know?” she asks, pressing closer, eradicating all space between them.

“No,” Cosima says. Delphine can feel her smile just barely touching her lips.

 

She whispers it against her lips and into her skin.

 

She cracks it, and once she does, she feels like a fool for not having seen it earlier, but she's so thrilled by the revelation that she can't help but phone Cosima, even though she knows she's in a lecture, and she's already on her way out the door with her findings and the most recent blood sample Cosima had given her. Her first call goes to voicemail, but the second pictures up after two rings, Cosima's voice hushed when she speaks.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I'm wonderful!” Delphine exclaims. “I figured it out, Cosima. You have a lab today, yes? I have a few small tests that need to be run, if you have the time.” There's a pause, then,

“Oh. Shit. Yeah, of course,” Cosima whispers, but she sounds just as excited as Delphine feels. “Like, you actually figured it out?”

“Yes. I don't know why I didn't see it before, it was so obvious. The tests are just to verify.” Delphine explains.

“Met me there, okay?” Cosima tells her. “I gotta go, I'm getting looks. Bye.”

“Bye,” Delphine replied through a grin. She gets there early, and spends the next twenty minutes bouncing on her feet, expecting every clack of heels against the floor to be her. Despite that, Cosima still manages to blindside her, sneaking up when Delphine is looking the other way, spinning her around and crashing into a kiss before Delphine can properly register what's going on.

“You are totally brilliant, you know that?” she says when she pulls away, breathless and flushed.

“If I was brilliant, I would have figured it out earlier,” Delphine says modestly, her own cheeks warm.

“Shut up,” Cosima replies, kissing her again. “Give me the sample. I'll run the texts now. It's not like I have anything more pressing to do. You wrote down everything you need, right?” Delphine nods, biting her lip, unable to keep the silly grin off her face. “Find somewhere you'd like to eat,” Cosima continues, holding the folder to her chest. “Somewhere nice. It's my turn to treat you.”

“Oh, you don't ha-” Delphine tries to argue, but Cosima interrupts her with another kiss.

“Just do it,” she says against her lips. “Text me the details.” With a final embrace, Cosima leaves her grinning and swooning outside the door, feeling light as air.

 

It seems fitting that the restaurant Delphine chooses is where they had their first date, although she had been clueless at the time. When she thinks about it now, the signals had all been there, and she'd responded eagerly to Cosima's flirtations without realizing that she was doing so, and momentarily feels more the fool for having reacted the way she did to the kiss back in her home. Cosima reacts favourably, though when she asks if she can expect Leekie to show up again it takes Delphine a moment and half a reassurance to realize that she's joking.

“What do we do now?” Cosima asks, lazily swirling her wine around in its glass while they wait for their meal.

“When I get the test results back, I study them, then develop a treatment, which, unfortunately, is not as easy as it sounds.” Cosima shrugs, not bothered.

“And then?” she asks.

“Have you heard any more from Sarah? It's been quite a while, no?” Cosima shakes her head.

“I mean, I did, but not good news.”

“Why didn't you say anything to me?” Cosima shrugs again and takes a delicate sip of her drink.

“You were sort of preoccupied, y'know? Besides, it wasn't, like, good or bad. That lead that she said her partner, sorry, Beth's partner, had fell through. I haven't heard anything since. Why?” Delphine chews on her lip.

“There is a facility,” she starts, “in Montréal. I was there briefly when I first arrived, before I was assigned to you. If this Mrs. S is involved with them, and Leekie has managed to get a hold of Kira, he may have taken her there.”

“So, what do we do?” Cosima repeats. Delphine hesitates. It's risky, more so than turning her back on Neolution to begin with in order to help Cosima. Their food arrives before she answers.

“You are my first concern,” she says, carefully. “You always will be, but I see no reason why we can't tell Sarah and her police friend, and get her back, yes?”


End file.
